


Return to the Den of Snakes

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Married Life, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Team Arrow and Flash's joint mission marked their second trip to Markovia. Dimitrij Lazarov Jr., the brother of a foe these heroes had faced once before was seeking revenge not on solely Oliver, but all who chose to help him. It was a vendetta against both Oliver and Barry, three years in the making. They return to the den of snakes, which leads them back to Castle Wallenstein. Love is in the air for Oliver and Felicity. Friendships are stronger than ever, but which two will fall off course from their groups?





	1. Away We Go

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story is clearly inspired by the latest novel in _The Flash_ and _Arrow_ book series entitled _Arrow: A Generation of Vipers_ In fact, so much so, certain lines and descriptions are honestly excerpted verbatim because it's just that good. You don't have to read that novel to understand this story, but [here's](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/post/159198422361/arrow-a-generation-of-vipers-review) my review/recap of it.  
>   
>  _Please note, Ghasi and Dimitrij Lazarov aren't my characters at all, but Dimitriij Lazarov Jr. is mine_

Green Arrow left Star City Police Department a little present, four disgraced former soldiers in a net. To think, his and Felicity’s wedding anniversary was coming up soon. A symphony of sirens with telltale signs of red and blue flashing lights indicated this city’s hero better get the Hell out of Dodge. Everyone knew the archer’s true identity under that hood for over a year now. However, Oliver just didn’t want to deal with rookie cops on patrol, who pandered for a selfie with him.  
  
Felicity joked in his ear, huffing out a small laugh, “You think they’ll send us flowers next time?”  
  
Ignoring that for now, Oliver hastily pulled a grappling arrow from his quiver. Once his ears were keen to the hook making connection to a nearby ventilation pipe, the archer made his ascend up Queen BioMedical, a subsidiary to his wife’s Fortune 500 tech conglomerate, Queen Incorporated. How Oliver wished this endeavor was not a merger with Wayne Medical. Bruce Wayne was pompous and reckless. Cliche billionaire playboy thought he could charm the pants off any woman he crossed paths with in Gotham, but at least Felicity and Bruce’s joint venture would be helping those who couldn’t afford revolutionary medical tech. Institutional windows appeared like blurry keys on a piano, and the emerald archer’s boots crunched under the rooftop.  
  
“Overwatch, is that all of Brigade's goons?”  
  
Green Arrow scoured the area, doing one final check. He never missed, although this gang was a band of ex-Army Rangers and Marine snipers. Their heist was a rudimentary grab-and-go. They planned on stealing diabetes medicine and a fairly new street drug that only Star City had come  to know as Slide. Pair the two chemical compounds together, and the Glades would’ve been dealing with a dangerous mixture infinitely more addictive than Heroin.  
  
Back at the bunker or as Cisco had hilariously dubbed it, the _Arrowcave_ , Overwatch reported, “Nope. You’re good, so come home. There’s nothing left for us to do.”  
  
Just as the archer was about to fire off a specialty zip line arrow, a sharp pain jolted under his right pec. Despite all that Oliver had endured in over a decade, a barely audible hiss escaped his mouth.  
  
“What was that?” his wife suspected, already knowing the answer. “You’re shot.”  
  
A 9mm caliber bullet pierced through his Kevlar and leather super suit. Blood stained his glove. In a very procedural manner, what Barry liked to call Star City’s own guardian angel grabbed a sterile white cloth, small gauze pad, and white surgical tape from his bandolier and applied pressure over another countless wound.  
  
“Oliver, Oliver! Stay put. Wait ‘til I bring the van around. Don’t you dare... ”  
  
Regardless of Felicity’s loud, angry tone over comms, the hero resumed his original plan. He shot off a zip line arrow around a tree branch in the parking lot right behind him.  
  
In his altered voice, her husband assured with a grunt, “It’s just a shallow graze.”  
  
A typical high-pitched whine across the polymer cable signaled Oliver was already heading back down towards his bike.  
  
“Ugh,” Felicity groaned, “why don’t men ever listen?”  
  
Oliver envisioned Felicity rolling her eyes in annoyance just as Felicity pictured a toothy boyish grin under that Oliver’s ancient green hoodie.

* * *

Fluorescent lights illuminated the cavernous space of Team Arrow’s lair. Oliver’s long legs still clad in his usual green leather pants dangled from a cold metal stool. Felicity thoroughly scrubbed her hands like a doctor preparing for an operation. She even had a drawer full of non-latex blue gloves to match. She proceeded to push up her husband’s black t-shirt, revealing his toned abs and a thankfully minor graze.  
  
“Yeooow!” He shouted, staring Felicity down with his fiery azure eyes while she extracted the bullet with large tweezers, “That really hurts.”  
  
She quipped, narrowing her eyes at him, “Good.”  
  
Oliver remained tight-lipped as Felicity removed the bloody bullet. The casing and small bits of shrapnel subsequently clinked into a clean metal bowl. When he was being stitched up, Oliver begun to realize Felicity wasn’t merely mad at him. Something about her eyes showed that she also felt nervous and hurt. This week in particular was a little tougher with John, Lyla, Sara, and J.J. in Coast City for a weekend family getaway. No matter all Oliver’s years of experience in the field, taking out four heavily armed burly criminals alone was no easy feat.  
  
“Baby,” her husband spoke softly, attempting to hold her hands.  
  
Felicity saw right through Oliver’s bullshit. She abruptly dismissed her husband’s tactic to weasel his way out of this discussion by swatting his hands away hard.  
  
“Oh, don’t you ‘Baby,’ me, Oliver. I told you to stay put until I got there with our van.”  
  
“Felicity, come on. This isn’t anything we haven’t been through before.”  
  
Standing her ground, Felicity scoffed, “you are just lucky I didn’t feel like calling in Dr. Schwartz for her expertise, Queen.”  
  
“Felicity, Honey, look at me. I’m fine.”  
  
“Fine?” his wife repeated in disbelief. “Just a few fractions of a centimeter more, and that bullet could’ve easily punctured a rib or worse.”  
  
Oliver reached for her hands again, and despite herself, Felicity let him.  
  
“Hey.” Her husband assured in a whisper, “This is nothing.”  
  
“But...” Felicity’s voice quavered with anxiety.  
  
Oliver cut in, enunciating every single syllable of his wife’s name, “Felicity.”  
  
Biting her lower lip, Felicity reminded, “You know how I feel about you going out there alone.”  
  
“I’m not alone. I have you.”  
  
“Oliver.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I really hate staying back here, especially when John is out of town. It seems like I’m trapped in a gilded cage with my hands tied to my workstation  
  
“First of all, it’s watchtower - not a cage. I'm being serious here, Felicity.” He explained, lips quirking in a soft smile. “You keep watch over all of us, and we couldn’t do what we do without you, otherwise we’d be going in blind,  Even when you’re back here at the bunker, you are always with me, Hon.”  
  
“These streets are still dangerous.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Prometheus.” The name left a bad taste in her mouth. Nerves jangled her tone, “H-he almost took everything from me. He almost took you…”  
  
Pulling Felicity closer into his embrace, Oliver promised, “See? I’ve still got two arms right here.”  
  
“The better to hold you with, my dear,” Felicity teased, worry visibly softening on her round face.  
  
His girl could make an entire room come to a halt for better or worse.  
  
Shaking his head in amusement, her husband hoped, “Would it make you feel more at ease to know that John and Lyla will be back by Monday?”  
  
“A little bit,” she conceded with a nod. “I’ve just got to shut down my workstation. Then, we can hit the road.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Felicity said, “I’m driving.”  
  
“Whatever you want.”

* * *

 

The following days were relatively quiet. John and Lyla arrived back home yesterday, looking more stressed than when they left. The Diggles and Queens had an awkward family dinner. John and Lyla’s behaviors were drastically different towards each other, but their friends didn’t push the issue at that time. From then on, Oliver and Felicity went about their actual day jobs. Felicity oversaw Curtis’ schematics for upgrades that would not only make QI’s biostimulant chip more affordable to the masses, but safer and smaller as well. Oliver, on the hand, had a few mundane interviews to finally hire a replacement District Attorney for that nut job Adrian Chase.  
  
Even in mid-Winter, warm weather burst through an expectantly cold week. Sunlight managed to seep through the gray curtains in Oliver and Felicity’s bedroom of their penthouse. It crested over neighboring skyscrapers, A ray of bright light darted to Oliver’s face, causing him to gradually open his tired eyes. His sight was instantly met with his sleeping wife. A subtle smile creased her nude lips. It was kind of amazing how anyone could be so happy in the morning of all times. Well, provided Felicity Queen get her daily dose of caffeine. Yet still, how could anybody be so blissful at this ungodly hour?  It was much too bright and sunny for Oliver’s liking. With a brief stretch of his arms, Oliver gathered Felicity closer towards his chest. The slight change in position caused Felicity to stir somewhat.  
  
“Mmm,” his wife moaned, eyelids slowly fluttering open and closed. “Morning.”  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” she replied, voice huskily laden with disuse. “It was that goddamn crow who’s probably duking with a flock of bluejays again.”  
  
The bluejays chirps were sweetly melodic, but that wretched raven bird’s loud caws stuck out of the flock like pickles in an ice cream shop. Mother Nature’s wake up call ceased as little critters flew elsewhere. Oliver and Felicity relished in peaceful moments, such as these. Unfortunately, they were far and few between since the couple’s day in the Stepford Wives area of Ivy Town. However, Star City would always be home to the Queens. Regardless of the red thick flannel shirt, Felicity pilfered from her husband. Oliver easily memorized her scars as if they were a map of five Hellish years on Lian Yu.  
  
Morning breath ghosting over her lips, Oliver greeted again, “Hi.”  
  
“Hi,” Felicity echoed just as softly. Her smile immediately grew wider.  
  
On that note, Oliver planted a sloppy kiss on Felicity’s lips. His tongue sneaked out, exploring her mouth intensely. He probed around until he nearly felt a riff of unevenness. It was far too deep for him to actually touch, but they both knew he could practically caress her wisdom tooth scars with his tongue. Gasping for breath, the Queens broke away from a passionate kiss. His stubble rasped at the sensitive skin of her neck, which made Felicity bite back a moan. But he certainly didn’t want to stop. Oliver loved those unbidden sounds she made because of him. He sucked harder at her pulse point while his palm slid under the covers. His calloused hands trailed along a newer scar — a three inch long incision Oliver had to make along her right hip no thanks to a parasitic listening device from another old friend, turned enemy Ghasi Lazarov. Their desires ignited even hotter while Felicity used her legs to ensnare one of his own.  
  
“Honey.”  
  
Words were not needed. Oliver’s tone was damn near desperate, and Felicity’s gaze darkened to a mitigated blue, it was clear that she was in complete agreement as to how they were going to spend their early morning together. Her fingertips danced over his warm skin, tracing Oliver’s scars as well. He had so many of them. Too many in fact — bullets, arrows, knives, swords, acid, burns, and even a badass, yet frightening shark bite. Felicity sighed in contentment when Oliver’s roughened palm matched the equally coarse skin of her back littered with numerous reminders of how Felicity was the strongest person he knows. She took barrage of bullets from Darhk’s Ghosts and endured multiple surgeries after that fateful night during their very first engagement.  
  
“ _Don’t stop_.”  
  
Much to Felicity’s chagrin, Oliver paused for a minute. He yanked down the heavy comforter on her side. With his ninja-like reflexes, he had his wife on her back in an instant. His fingers were nowhere as fast as hers, but they still managed to make quick work of her shirt. His ravenous gaze was soon enamored by her bare skin adorned with a few cute freckles here and there. He rubbed his morning wood against her increasingly heated core still under the confines of comfy black cotton panties. They both emitted languid moans at the dual sensations.  
  
Oliver’s body blanketed hers. Their lips reconvened in a vigorous frenzy of harsh kisses, all teeth and tongue. Cushioning her back with his hands, Oliver’s mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. He nibbled on her earlobe, descending along the crook of her neck once more. Felicity cradled her husband in between her legs, seeking much needed friction when she thrust emptily against him. However, Oliver continued to take things slowly. He pecked feather-light smooches over her collarbone. From there, his mouth worshiped her skin. His lips traveled blindly down her torso, rooting around until he reached a nipple. Felicity’s mouth fell open in soundless exclamation of pleasure. Her palm gently found the back of his head, delicately tugging at his spiky blonde locks. Heat simmered in her body. As if on cue, when Felicity’s back arched off the bed, Oliver’s fingers threaded through her underwear. He abruptly pulled down the stifling piece of fabric. Right as he was about to push two fingers inside of her, Felicity’s phone interrupted their plans to stay in bed for the rest of this morning.  
  
“Babe, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Oliver grumbled, looking up at his wife.  
  
Panting slightly, Felicity reasoned, “I know. I know. We agreed on a no work in the bedroom rule, but It could be an emergency.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Oliver’s aching erection brushed against the goddamn mattress when he pushed up off the bed to get to his feet. He slipped into a pair of sweatpants, slowly taking in three deep cleansing breaths. Clearly since Felicity was buttoning up Oliver’s shirt, their plans for romance would be saved for later.  
  
“Who was that?” Her husband inquired, setting up his detachable chin-up bar in the doorway.  
  
“John called. He and Lyla want to meet in the lair at and I quote at ‘0800 hours’.”  
  
Lifting his tall muscular frame before her eyes, Oliver wondered, “For what?”  
  
Using his core strength, Oliver did chin-ups with such an ease due to years of practice. It was no salmon ladder, but damn, it was almost as good. Her husband felt rather invigorated by the welcomed burn in his arms, back, and shoulders. Besides he desperately needed to do something else with his body in order to compensate for an interruption to their other morning activities. Oliver didn’t even break a sweat yet, and no matter the smeary vision without her glasses, Felicity’s gaze honed in her husband’s splayed form.  
  
“Felicity.” Oliver drew out her name, intruding on his wife’s rather loud thoughts.  
  
“Wow, you look good in anything, but blue really brings out your eyes.” Felicity jumped as if to center herself back to the task at hand and cleared her throat, “Right. He didn’t specify. Sorry.”  
  
Once Felicity slid her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, she followed Oliver’s moves with her eyes more clearly than before. They didn’t have enough time to unpause some time that would require a lot less clothes since Felicity’s rumbling stomach announced its presence as soon as Oliver’s bare feet padded their carpeted floor. Luckily, Oliver whipped a short stack of banana pumpkin pancakes while Felicity brewed coffee in their precious Keurig. Right on schedule, the Queens drove to their home away from home.

* * *

“Eight o’clock right on the dot.” John grinned, eyes flickering down to his watch. “I’m impressed.”  
  
His friend chimed, dropping her purse in the lounge of area of the lair. “You’re welcome.”  
  
“Okay.” Oliver clapped, getting straight to the point, “So why are we here this early in the morning?”  
  
Lyla instructed, “Take a seat.”  
  
John sat front and center as if  he reverted back to being diligent private in military school, whereas Oliver and Felicity got comfortable for this meeting. Oliver slumped onto the leather loveseat just as if it was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Felicity perched on her husband’s good knee with her feet resting atop the arm of the sofa.  
  
Lyla then proceeded to pull down the projection screen and dimmed bunker lights. Multiple photos flipped on and off — the American consulate in Markovburg, Castle Wallenstein, and the newest model of a sleek silver Maserti.  
  
“Why are we looking at photos from our spy mission to save Barry’s speed and life in Markovi over two years ago?” Felicity queried, raising her hand up high like a kid in a classroom.  
  
“Because these photos aren’t over couple years ago.” Lyla clarified. “They’re from a couple _days_ ago.”  
  
“Ghasi’s back.” John’s brows furrowed in confusion. “How? The last time Oliver saw him he was bleeding from everywhere and trapped in a wormhole that made The Flash’s full speed return.”  
  
“We’re not exactly sure, but we have intel  it’s someone close to Ghasi — a blood relative perhaps.”  
  
Oliver remembered, “Lazarov stabbed his own father in cold blood, and I’ve never ever heard him talk about a brother or mother.”  
  
In answer to her friend’s statement, Lyla displayed another photo of a man who looked no older than Thea. Instantly, Felicity’s mouth was left agape.  
  
“Oh my God,” Felicity gasped, recognizing the man, “Nick Kovac, I can’t believed I actually hired that son of a bitch for QI’s Applied Sciences Division.”  
  
“His real name is believed to Dimitriij Lazarov Jr., and…”  
  
John finished, disdain seething in his tone, “You need this one off the books.”  
  
“If people knew, we let another meta slip through our fingers, this can easily become an international incident. We can’t afford to have that our hands, Johnny.”  
  
Johnny? God, it was difficult to believe she still called him that because Lyla was slowly morphing into Amanda Waller due to  her continued leadership at A.R.G.U.S.  
  
Tension created a wall between John and Lyla, but she was still his wife and mother of their children. Regardless of Lyla’s attitude recently, terrorists had to be stopped at any cost.  
  
Rubbing his temples to ease the frustration, her husband commented, “Okay, so you need our help? What’s Lazarov’s game plan this time around?”  
  
With her hip jutted out, Lyla mentioned coldly, “He’s after another wormhole generator because he wants his brother back. A device that could easily tear the fabric of space and time isn’t a good thing in the hands of two very dangerous men on a quest for revenge.”  
  
Felicity interjected, nearly lunging at the screen if it wasn't for Oliver reigning her in at the moment, “Can I please fire his ass before we stop him from terrorizing the world with God knows what?”  
  
“Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. Flight records from that little airport in the Glades he’s already skipped town. Our objectives are to buy back the wormhole generator from Wallenstein and bright Dimitriij into custody. I’ve already called in Barry and Cisco from Team Flash for backup in case things get dicey. Wheels up in forty-eight hours, we’re heading back to Markovia, ladies and gents.”  
  
“Why not now?” Oliver asked with a skeptical raise of his eyebrow.  
  
She told them, “I need you and Overwatch to pick up a little insurance plan at an old QC office — an IR burst receiver. You in?”  
  
Felicity replied, “Oh, I’m definitely in. I’ve got to do something to take that bastard down.”  
  
“Me too.” Oliver concurred.  
  
Reluctantly, John agreed as well, “Okay, you’re the boss, Ms. Michaels.”

* * *

Within a day, Felicity received a second invitation from Count Wallenstein to attend the annual auction at his castle in Markovia. Felicity typed furiously on her keyboard in her high-rise office of Queen Inc.  
  
“Mrs. Queen, your husband is here to see you,” Her executive assistant, Gerry’s voice crackled over the intercom.  
  
The line remained mostly silent.  
  
“Ma’am, shall I send your husband in, or…”  
  
With a gracious smile that met his eyes, Oliver offered, “No need, Gerry. I have a key card. Mrs. Queen is expecting me shortly.”  
  
“Very well, sir.. Mr. Mayor… Mr. Queen.” Gerry changed titles over and over before he corrected nervously, “Oh whatever, the heck you want to be called, sir.”  
  
He chuckled, “Oliver is just fine, Gerry. Besides Mr. Queen was my father.”  
  
“Very well then, Oliver.”  
  
Oliver strode past his wife’s trusted E.A., slipping his key card in one of the large adjacent double doors. Three little green lights granted him entrance, yet surprisingly Felicity didn’t seem to notice his presence.  
  
“Felicity.”  
  
“Fool me once, shame on me.” Felicity grumbled, fingers pounding angrily over her keyboard. “Fool me twice, mama’s coming for you with some tricks up her sleeve, you assholes.”  
  
He walked over to her desk until a hand draped over her shoulder, which was hopefully announce his arrival. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.  
  
“Ah!” Felicity spun her brown leather desk chair in alarm, “You scared me!” Swatting his chest, she asked, “Why are sneaking up on me like that?”  
  
“I’m not sneaking. You just didn’t hear me, which is surprising considering I said your name and cleared my throat twice.”  
  
“To-mat-oh, to-mot-oh. What are you doing here?”  
  
Squatting down to her level, he reminded, “Lunch break.”  
  
“Now?” Felicity said incredulously, checking the time on her cellphone. “It’s only 11:11AM. Don’t you think that’s a little early for lunch?”  
  
“Yeah, but you know we have to pick up,” Oliver hesitated briefly, understanding the walls had ears even in a safe environment like his wife’s tech company, “the thingy that Lyla asked to on our pit stop before we head out to Aparo’s.”  
  
She bobbed her head, “Oh, right. For our mini-vacation.”  
  
“That’s right, ma’am.” Gerry butt in, trying to act as if he wasn’t listening to their private conversation. “Your itinerary shows you and Mr. Queen are taking a trip to Bali from the sixteenth to the eighteenth. I do hope you two enjoy your stay. Paradise sounds quite lovely during this time of year.”  
  
Bali or Markovia, what was the difference? Give or take a secret superhero mission to stop an international terrorist and seven thousand some odd miles.  
  
“Oliver and I went there our honeymoon. We have a lot of photos of all the fun things we did there. I could show you some photos.” His boss blushed, cutely rambling on. “Well, of the stuff we did _outdoors_ mostly.”  
  
“You’re adorable.” Her husband noted moon-eyed, blinking as if to redirect their attention to more important matters. “Felicity, Honey, we really should go before the store closes.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
The couple bid Gerry goodbye. Felicity slung an ID badge around her neck — one that granted her unlimited access to every place in Queen Incorporated, including Robert’s former offices. Unfortunately, much to Oliver’s dismay, this abandoned building was located in the roughest part of town, the Glades. Elevator doors to the parking garage dinged. When Felicity and Oliver reached his crimson Ducati Diavel, she zipped up her black leather jacket. Oliver gave Felicity her helmet, and revved the engine. She straddled the bike behind him, looping her arms around his waist. The Queens zoomed past a light flow of traffic.  
  
When they pulled up to a tall brick building, senses of disappointment fell over the couple.  The Queens were Star City’s golden couple, according to the tabloids. Yet as a very powerful founder and C.E.O. of a revolutionary tech and mayor of this beloved city, the Glades were still an impoverished area that fell through the cracks. Graffiti lined the walls, so much so passersby couldn’t even see original flaking paint jobs. These streets were home to many factories and steel mills. By dark, trash can fires lit alleyways just so homeless people could find warmth on a cold winter’s night.  
  
Oliver’s mouth pursed in a grim slit, tucking a strand of Felicity’s blonde hair behind her ear.  
  
“Don’t do this.”  
  
“Unbelievable.” Felicity laughed, almost maniacally. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re already here.”  
  
“It’s just after what happened last time you and John were here with John, I want you to be safe.”  
  
Now that was a moment Felicity would never forget. It was November 2015 during a joint mission before heading to Markovia with Team Flash and Lyla. Sure, it involved being shot at with parasitic listening devices courtesy of four huge commandos and a daring escape off a rickety rusting balcony. But, damn it, the mission was worth it — albeit fieldwork was scary as Hell. But that freedom and exhilaration were experiences Felicity needed at times.  
  
Eyes piercing his, she challenged, “You will have to stop me.”  
  
“Felicity, please.”  
  
“No!” She sniped, “My company, my business. I’m going with you whether you like it or not, Oliver.”  
  
Despite a surge of panic thrumming in his chest, Oliver relented, “Fine. We don’t exactly know what to expect when we get up there. Just promise me if things get out of hand, you won’t wait for me. And you will get to safety.”  
  
“As much as a romance novel trope as this is, I am safe when I’m with you. We’ll be fine. Now, come on. Let’s go.”  
  
“Yes, dear. Where are we exactly headed?”  
  
“Tenth floor,” she told him. “At least we don’t have to jump off a rooftop or anything.”  
  
Oliver and Felicity’s shoes crunched under broken glass and fragments of debris as they passed through the main doors. The duo continued to travel up ten flights of stairs with nary a foe in sight. Eventually, the hallways grew narrower and darker. Felicity fished for a flashlight in the black hole of her purse, and it shined a light in front of them. Big maroon numbers, though nearly faded away from wear and tear indicated they finally had reached their destination. Felicity’s prayers had been answered because those stairwells still smelled absolutely horrid; devoid of air for years. This entire place reeked with a musty and stale scent.  
  
Felicity used her key card to pry open the lock. Immediately when they entered the room, she stepped in something soft, squishy, and wet. Thank goodness, Felicity opted for her cute but inexpensive designer knock-off boots from Payless as opposed to the Chanel pair Thea got her. She didn’t even dare to look down to see whatever that substance was, she simply chose to swipe the remnants of it on the fraying blue rug. Window dressings were left in tatters, meaning natural sunlight shone through the dimly lit space. Vines crept onto the dingy walls. Dirt, debris, and muck soiled the floor, yet there was still a clear pathway to an old desk of Robert’s, which was water damaged and rusting as years passed. Felicity also didn’t fail to notice the series of bullet and balcony that was literally hanging on by a few screws and bolts.  
  
Put simply, Oliver recalled, “So we’re looking for a remote shaped device, right?”  
  
“An IR burst receiver - that device can suck the data out of any room you put in, and I wonder why your father would… Never mind.”  
  
“My father didn’t always have the best judge of character.”  
  
Shooting him a deadly glare, Felicity pointed out, “Your dad hired me, didn’t he?”  
  
“Most of the time,” her husband added, kissing away her pensive pout.  
  
With all the crap in this room, Oliver and Felicity figured the easiest place to look would be right in plain sight. Robert had a large drawer at the bottom of desk with an old-school pad lock, Oliver broke it open with an empty fire extinguisher. With a little elbow grease, the metal drawer opened with a loud squeak.  
  
Upon seeing the small, but powerful tech, his wife confirmed, “Bingo.”  
  
“Grab it. We’ve got to get out of here before…”  
  
A shot from a pistol exploded into the room.  
  
Felicity whimpered, “Please let that be friendly fire. Please let that be friendly fire.”  
  
“Go, go, go!” Oliver commanded, ushering her out of the window.  
  
“What are you doing? There’s no way this balcony is going to hold me.”  
  
Heavy footsteps bounded the stairs.  
  
“Felicity, you have to climb up. Go on. Get out of here.”  
  
Hanging onto a cement ledge, Felicity waited, “What about you?”  
  
“I’ll be right up. I promise.”  
  
Dread drained the color from her face as she saw four commandos in black fatigues, who appeared to be the same men from when she was here with John last time. Her arm muscles shook violently, yet with help from a long pipe she climbed up to the eleventh floor. Shots popped throughout the room from below, yet Oliver threw an unconscious assailant with blood staining his gray button up shirt. Felicity couldn’t stay latched onto the pipe like a koala forever. Strain wracked her body, although she slumped safely onto the tar roof directly above the thirteenth floor. Oliver followed right behind his wife. However, the rusted pipe broke away from this old brick building with a loud clang.  
  
“Oliver!”  
  
Instinctively, Felicity pressed a button on her bracelet that Curtis demanded she wear at all times. He may not be a part of Team Arrow anymore, but Mister Terrific’s T-Spheres sure came in handy. Spheres rapidly flew to the Oliver’s aid, reaching him in the nick of time. Metal cables wrapped around him like a harness and airlifted him right next to Felicity.  
  
Felicity threw herself into Oliver’s arms, knocking the wind out of him while she hugged him tightly.  
  
“Hey.” He exhaled, running a hand through her hair.“I’m here. I’m right here. Thanks for the save.”  
  
Felicity huffed off a laugh in relief, tears gleaming in her eyes, “Right backatcha.”  
  
Unfortunately, there was no way that two T-spheres could carry both Oliver and Felicity down, but Curtis always knew Felicity had a backup plan. They floated down to Oliver’s motorcycle, retrieving Oliver’s quiver, which just so happened to have a grappling hook arrow.  
  
“Oh no! No, no, no!” His wife protested reverently with her arms raised in defense.  
  
Launching the polymer cable across the to nearest vacant studio apartment window, Oliver instructed, “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look down.”  
  
Despite her fears, Felicity did as he asked, “Not again.”  
  
An old office was no elevator shaft, but for the umpteeth time in years, Oliver and Felicity channeled their inner Tarzan and Jane, swinging off the roof to a slightly safer apartment complex. As soon as their feet touched the ground, Felicity lurched forward and vomited over a scratched wood floor.  
  
“I gotcha. I gotcha.” Her husband assured, holding back her hair. “And we’ll have someone bill us for cleaning.”

* * *

Next morning beyond the various terminals at Star City International Airport, Oliver and Felicity parked their huge Range Rover near the tarmac reserved for private jet services.  
  
His wife prompted, sipping her latte, “Your jet or mine, my love?”  
  
Felicity wasn’t kidding. They had his and hers jets. Oliver had a plane that rivaled Madame President Susan Brayden’s Air Force One — an aircraft he could pilot himself if need be. Felicity had a Bombardier Global for corporate travel.  Each plane sat domant in the private area with fuel hoses sticking out of it. Sleek jets were shrouded by the clouds of typical December weather as maintenance crews routinely went over their checklists.  
  
Oliver only took a swig of his black coffee.  
  
“You all right?”  
  
“Yeah,” her husband replied, intertwining their fingertips across the center console. “It’s hard to believe that is our life sometimes.”  
  
“We could be living together in a cardboard box, and I’d still be happy. You know that, right?”  
  
“Sure. Why’s that though?”  
  
Smiling broadly, Felicity leaned in to kiss him, “Because all I care about is you.”  
  
“We’re on the same page there.” Oliver said, “Because all I want is for you to be happy, no matter where we go.”  
  
Their mouths gravitated to one another for a delicate smooch, noses brushing against each other adorably. That was until the couple heard a rapping on Oliver’s window.  
  
“Yo, lovebirds,” Thea called out. “Get out here, and check your stuff.”  
  
Felicity observed, spotting Thea, Dig, and Lyla at the bottom of the steps to her jet, “The gang’s mostly here.”  
  
Right when Oliver and Felicity exited the vehicle, three Queens all group hugged.  
  
“Nice to see you too, Speedy.” Her brother said. “How was Hub City with Roy?”  
  
“Awesome. He works on some pretty sweet rides, and mama got herself a new pair of boots.”  
  
“So cute!” Felicity complemented, admiring her sister-in-law’s newest purchase.  
  
Oliver fetched Felicity’s Louis Vuitton carry-on along with his black duffel bag and a hardshell green case with a lighter load of his weapons. John and Thea did the same. Benefits of a private flight.  
  
“Felicity, you’ve changed this one for the better.” Dig quipped in amusement. “You’re early.”  
  
“Hmm…” She mused, flipping up her Aviator shades, “I’ve finally learned to tell that husband of mine our appointments are an hour earlier than their supposed to be.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
His wife shrugged, answering with a simple, “Love you.”  
  
John and Lyla weren’t qute as lovey dovey. Lyla didn’t even share so much as a passing glance with her spouse.  
  
“Where are Fleet Feet and Ramon? I want these birds in the air as soon as possible.”  
  
Oliver sent a quick text to Barry.  
  
“They’re on the way.”  
  
Barry’s orange speed trail whipped around them before he came to a full stop.  
  
“Sorry, sorry.” Barry apologized profusely, carrying his friend bridal style with two bags piled on him like a pack mule, “This hanger is massive, and I’ve got some heavy cargo.”  
  
Cisco flicked a sidelong glance. “I’m not heavy. I’m big boned. Okay, okay, I know what y’all are going to say ‘You put on a little weight since Gypsy broke it off,' but Grandma Esther’s noodles are slammin’.”  
  
“Not you, man.” His friend pointed out, “Your bag is more like a boulder. Running is fine, but upper body strength is not really my forte. What the Hell do you have in here?”  
  
Thea guessed with a smirk, “all his hair products.”  
  
“Don’t be jelly, girl.” Cisco intoned, combing his fingers through his long locks, “It takes a lot of work to bring out the luster, shine, and vivaciousness.”  
  
“Just please tell me you brought actual clothes, dude,” the speedster hoped.  
  
“Duh. I wasn’t going to Nature Boy this op in the middle of winter.”  
  
“Good. ‘Cause I am not sharing my thermal underwear with… I mean, where do we put our bags?”  
  
Oliver took the liberty of tossing their belongings in with Team Arrow’s.  
  
Barry chimed, mouth widening to that boyish grin of his, “Thanks, Ollie.”  
  
They had everything they needed warm clothes, tablets, earbuds, a map to a renovated eighteenth century caste, weapons, and highly advanced tech. Some would call that A Vigilante’s Guide to Vacation. The groups piled onto Felicity’s jet, sitting in lush leather seats with snacks aplenty.  
  
“Cait’s still on Earth-38?” Felicity presumed, noting, “Geez, multiple Earths can get complicated.”  
  
“Uh huh. We’re hoping the solar radiation in Kara’s blood can combat the Elsa effect,” the engineer replied.  
  
“Mmhm,” Barry added, “If her sister can create a chemical mock-up that mimics Kara’s blood cells, Cait will be good to go for Team Flash again.”  
  
“Where’s Lyla?” Thea wondered.  
  
John answered, “She decided on taking A.R.G.U.S. C-130. Our nanny’s watching Sara and J.J., so we’re good.”  
  
“You sure about that, Dig?” the youngest Queen noticed.  
  
“Thea, for as long as you known me, when have I ever been one to want to share my own feelings?”  
  
Oliver stayed mum, but he figured the flask he tucked away in his duffel bag may come in handy at some point. No chance he was letting John and Lyla get divorced again. Cisco as they waited to ready for takeoff, tested an upgrade on his conductivity sensor. No pinging sound was definitely a good sign. Although, he took an extra pass over at John and Felicity. Cisco’s hand rested on Felicity’s knee for a bit too long. Oliver and Felicity both glowered at him.  
  
In a hushed voice, Barry advised, “Man, move your hand before Oliver gets even more pissed.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not the one you have to worry about, Cisco.”  
  
“Hand off.” Felicity commanded, “Now.”  
  
“M-my bad,” Cisco sputtered, retracting his hand. “You know, Felicity, you have really soft skin.”  
  
“Thank you.” She chimed, anger dissipating in an instant. “It’s an Aveeno lotion I’ve been swearing by for years.”  
  
A flight attendant walked up, addressing Felicity, “Mrs. Queen, we should be ready to take off in a minute. Is there anything I can help you or your guests with?”

“No.”  
  
Even though, his wife claimed otherwise, Oliver decided to bring her a cozy gray blanket. Winter flights, especially near Luxembourg could get chilly. She felt his fingertips trace over the scar on her hip.  
  
“You warm enough?” Oliver asked.  
  
By the worried look on his face, that was not the question Oliver wanted to ask at all.  
  
“We’re going to be fine, Hon.”  
  
“I know. I’m not worried about us.”  
  
Her eyebrows raised in confusion, “Well, then who…?”  
  
Oliver silently gestured to Dig, who seem lost in his own world. Whatever was going on with him and Lyla seemed like the weight of their problems was on his shoulders.  
  
“We’re all going to be fine.” Felicity assured Oliver once more, though maybe she was saying that for her own self assurance as well,  
  
With his thumb grazing Felicity’s wedding ring, he uttered a soft, “I hope so.”  
  
The flight to Markovia would be just over ten hours. However, this mission in particular would change Teams Flash and Arrow permanently.


	2. Vigilantes' Tango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count Wallenstein is my character either as well as descriptions for the castle.

Thea felt a pit sink to the bottom of her stomach when their cable car drifted away from the ground. She clutched Dig’s firm bicep in response, trying to focus on the pathway to Castle Wallenstein. The gondola rocked as mountains rose snow-capped and precipitous. Thea squeezed John’s arm tighter than before. Felicity’s teeth contrasted her supple magenta lip stain. Instinctively, Oliver’s hand draped over her knee. Their eyes met in a gentle exchange. Felicity observed her husband’s expression like lines of code on any device, briefly wondering if he had flashbacks of The Queen’s Gambit. However, his only concern was for her.  
  
Lyla’s gaze fixated on dark dagger-like stones outside of the wide windows. Harsh winter winds roared steadily, effectively drowning out the resemblance of elevator music that was playing over the speakers. Barry and Cisco appeared more like tourists — albeit notably less jovial than their usual selves.  
  
“Yep. There’s the same ol’ castle,” Barry directed ahead.  
  
A sprawling structure perched on top of a peak like a vulture landing, spreading its vast wings over a valley housed with innocent prey. As evidenced by a fresh concrete patch up job, this palace was still going under repairs from as a result of their first visit here more than three years ago.  
  
“Castle Wallenstein hasn’t changed much.” Cisco perused an updated Markovian guidebook. “I still think Mountain of Doom or Despair Peak work so much better. It fits with the ominous I’m-probably-going-to-kill-you theme.”  
  
The gondola swayed hard, and Thea slumped against seats as well as John’s muscular side.  
  
“Damn, that chicken vegetable medley won’t taste so good the second time around. What the Hell did I sign up for? I should’ve stayed back in Star City, but how often do we get to go to Europe? How much longer?”  
  
Felicity assured her sister-in-law, “We’ll be there soon.”  
  
“Speedy, close your eyes.” Oliver instructed, using a rather zen voice. She did as he asked. “Breathe slowly. Be still.”  
  
Frustration rang in Thea’s tone, “Like _that’s_ going to help.”  
  
“Listen to Mr. Myagi here, Thea.” Barry vouched, slinging an arm around his friend. “It totally works.”  
  
Thea hesitated, yet eventually followed through with her brother’s technique. The top of a mountain was a plateau covered by a scarcely packed medieval village. A nearly crumbled wall ran along the edge of the plateau with a single gate at a narrow winding path that ran dangerously down the mountain. The once picturesque village sloped up toward another bastion remaining intact enough to protect a grand spiraled keep. The former lively citadel was in shadows of its former self, appearing somewhat recognizable due to its signature Gothic facets. The gondola jerked as it passed over a cable guide tower. It dropped slightly, entering in straight now  
  
“I don’t like going in unarmed.” John rubbed his temples as he saw each figure lined up on the now visible walls, “especially considering that we know what we’re up against.”  
  
“I know, but they would confiscate our gear from the minute we entered Mount Doom.” Thea concurred, noting two female guards. “Looks like Wallenstein got some new muscle.”  
  
Oliver delegated, “Flash, you’re up.”  
  
“Up the steep side of a mountain?” John doubted, eyebrows raising. “He’ll be flattened like a pancake.”  
  
“No worries, Dig. Monumentum’s the key. It’s not that different from running up an office building.”  
  
“Skyscrapers don’t usually have rough, snowy terrain.”  
  
“We have a backup plan.” Felicity chimed, recalling, “Cisco, please tell me you brought Barry’s boots with cleats.”  
  
“Right here,” the engineer replied, digging them out of a bag.  
  
Soon the gondola slid over a thick town wall. It clanked the last few yards into an overhang and bumped to a complete stop. The speedster zipped past Count Wallenstein’s security detail, bringing in a light load of Team Flash and Arrow’s gear. Four burly men in dark brown uniforms approached the group as they exited the cable car.  
  
“I feel like we’re in a World War II movie or something.” Barry muttered before the doors slid open. “This is giving me _Enemy at the Gates_ flashbacks.”  
  
His friend continued, “It’s definitely not _Saving Private Ryan_ that’s for damn sure.”  
  
Variations of shocked and amused looks muddled over everyone’s faces with Felicity being the exception. Her expression read preparing-to-intimidate-any-man-who-stands-in-my-way process.  
  
“I picked the movie for date night in last week.” his wife explained, “He didn’t hate it.”  
  
“Okay, you’re a global mover and shaker. You’re the head of Queen Incorporated.” Felicity thought, giving herself a silent pep talk. “You threatened an assassin from the Russian mob. You can do this. You can so totally do this.”  
  
A lackey questioned, checking an invite list on his tablet, “Name?”  
  
“Hello. Felicity Queen of Queen Incorporated from Star City, Washington, USA.” she announced as they disembarked. “I believe the Count is expecting me.”  
  
The burly square-faced man scoured his boss’ list, taking several seconds as he scrolled over it  
  
“ _You_ are expected, Mrs. Queen.”  
  
Felicity lifted her chin with as much determination as she could muster, “They’re my plus six.”  
  
“Ah, yes, we remember your husband and friends quite well.”  
  
“Come with us. We have a car waiting to take you to the castle.” Another man guided them up narrow steps where a black van awaited them on a gusty blustery street.  
  
Each guard opened the doors for them. Everyone looked at Oliver and Barry, who were standing in the center of their little group. Oliver climbed in first and Barry followed suit. The heroes cased the interior of this vehicle, discreetly looking for any red flags. However, this van was a simple hospitality vehicle with no partition to separate passengers’ views from their driver. The remaining vigilantes piled inside the van while other security guards took another car. Felicity’s door fell shut with a loud snick, causing her to jump slightly. Oliver interlaced their fingertips to cease them from twiddling on her leg.  
  
The van started off, rumbling through narrow cobblestone lanes barely wide enough for the vehicle to pass through. Dark gray stone walls gave the sense of a prison, similar to Lian Yu, although it held no inmates. If this castle was meant for incarceration than the neighboring little town was Hell. How typical of Count Wallenstein to disregard the needs of anybody but himself. No windows glowed with inviting lights or warm fires with happy people at home on a cold evening. Only an ominous foreboding greeted them. Yet the van rolled ever upward, sliding occasionally on the ice.  
  
The count’s security detail thickened as they were nearing an entrance to this palatial estate, only identifiable by dark fur hats and machine pistols concealed under their bulky woolen winter coats. Ahead loomed the bulk of the castle. That wing still remained untouched by the teams’ previous excursion here, It was a grand gothic structure, heavily extended, expanded, and renovated in later centuries.  
  
“I’m with Dig.” Thea watched the stoic faces of each guard from her van window. “I don’t like going in without our gear. I feel entirely too naked.”  
  
Felicity pulled out her tablet. “There are twenty-five guests on the invitee list, all of them deadly. These men are either arms’ dealers’, mercenaries, assassins, and oh no! Oliver, you’re going to want to take a look at this.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Malcolm Merlyn and Anatoly Knyaznev were guests as well. While the Bratva did their jobs in the shadows of the streets, the Russian mob had come into a lot of money lately courtesy of one Mr. Merlyn. Lethal expressions hardened both the Queen siblings’ faces. It was abundantly clear that if push came to shove with Malcolm and Anatoly, they’d end this once and for all.  
  
The van came to a halt. They exited the vehicle and climbed wide stone steps onto a portico Men in brown uniforms waited before a granite doorway to the main entrance, featuring knights in battle. One man spotted an alert on his tablet granting them access. The burly guards guided them through the main entrance. Even this mere hallway was cavernous and ostentatious as ever. Every wall, every corner, every surface was adorned with exquisitely beautiful objects: huge portraits, original tapestries, furniture of the finest craftsmanship, fixtures and vessels with gold, silver, and porcelain laden with numerous jewels. This castle was a true feast for the eyes, but at what cost to clearly destitute villages in the neighboring area. Suddenly four women in divine Italian black skirt suits replaced four burly men in dark brown uniforms.  
  
“Felicity Queen?” a woman with a broad Russian accent addressed.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“You need to come with me.”  
  
 Felicity gulped nervously.  
  
Stepping between the security guard and his wife, Oliver poured on the rich boy charm, “Is there a problem here, ma’am?”  
  
Externally, his sweet smile was calculated — no signs of tension in any muscle. Internally, Oliver was ready to take down anybody who dared to threaten a single hair on Felicity’s head.  
  
“No, the Count wishes to see each of his guests before they retire to their rooms,” the woman informed, obliging, “I suppose you six can join in, if you must.”  
  
“Of course they will.” Felicity confirmed, exuding the confidence and authority she’d gained as founder and C.E.O. of Queen Incorporated as well as in the field on occasion as Overwatch.  
  
The group strolled down a long hallway. Oliver caught sight of a man he recognized in an instant. His eyes flickered to the speedster, and they exchanged an understanding glance. Should the Count’s security detail step in, they had Presidential pardons from the commander-in-chief herself, Susan Brayden, to stop an international incident by any means necessary.  
  
Count Wallenstein, a distinguished elderly man, rose slowly to his feet. Patches of his tawny skin cracked with age. His head was shiny and completely shaven as years passed from their first meeting. He wore an old green military uniform, fitting of a master general, jacket stretched taut over his small gut. Buttons barely held the seams together. It was highly decorated with acres of gold and various medals. However, they doubted Wallenstein actually earned any of those merits on his own. He just shy of a classic monocle and absurd gold walking stick. The man seemed to never work a day in his life. Well, apart from his time in the Markovian mob. He twisted a husky yellow gold ring with a large emerald onto his finger. He briefly stroked his snowy white neatly-trimmed beard styled into a goatee.  
  
“Felicity Queen, what a pleasure it is to you see you again. My people have told me congratulations are in order from the last time you and your husband were here. I assure you both you all will have one the finest rooms in my humble abode. I am quite pleased and surprised you responded to another invitation of mine, considering our previous encounter.”  
  
If he meant the encounter, which narrowly made her husband an amputee, who nearly died twice from hypothermia. Then yes, one could suppose to call that mission an encounter of sorts.  
  
“Thank you.” Felicity forced a polite smile, though if the increasingly tight grip on Oliver’s hand was any indication, she was growing angrier by the second. “I mean why wouldn’t I want to see what happens with _my_ technology? You stole work under my company again. You...”  
  
“Um… Maybe it’s not such a good idea to insult our host.” Thea gave a nearly inaudible groan, counseling her sister-in-law, “especially when all his guards have ties to the mob and are crawling out the wazoo as we speak.”  
  
The blonde hacker bit her tongue, despite disdain festering inside her like an infected wound.  
  
“Please, everyone. It is all right,” the Count assured, and his security detail fell back. “I trust my servants to promptly bring your belongings to each of your rooms.”  
  
Barry sniped, “after you checked them first. Or my mistake! Have you already done that?”  
  
“Yes,” the Count confirmed without missing a beat. “None of your little toys interest me. I must say I expect far superior weaponry from the Emerald Archer and the Fastest Man Alive. A ground assault, perhaps?”  
  
“Hence, the guards every two feet. What can I say? We packed light.” Oliver smirked, finality weighting his tone. “I think we all know why we’re here.”  
  
“You want to stop the Shadow,” the Count surmised, “By all means, be my guest. I cannot have that pig lurking around my auction. You are killers, it is what you must you do.”  
  
The Shadow became European folklore sharing Ghasi’s cautionary tale — a Markovian native, who was experimented on for being a traitor to his country. Chemicals, electric shock, and cruelty people wouldn’t even begin to believe gifted him with metahuman-like abilities. He could easily turn invisible, and as far as they knew, Lazarov was sentenced to eternity in a wormhole. Unless his younger brother had a say in it.    
  
Oliver snapped, “We protect our cities and the people we love.”  
  
“That is quite true, Mr. Queen. However, I have friends who told me it was not always that way. Correct?”  
  
“I wasn’t always a hero,” the archer growled in response.  
  
The Count purposefully reminded, “And I was not always royalty, my dear boy.”

* * *

Teams Arrow and Flash adjourned to their rooms. They had an entire West wing to themselves, six lavish rooms along a modernized hallway that greatly surpassed the expensive taste Oliver and Thea were used to in their younger years. Flash, Vibe, Spartan, and Speedy did a routine sweep of the surrounding area outside the cast. Well, as most of it as they could. Felicity checked every nook and cranny of each room for possible listening devices. Luckily, no eavesdropping tech was found in sight. Even though Oliver felt as if he should be out there leading the teams. Barry stepped up. Something was messing with John’s head, and in the field that could spell a dangerous game. Harbinger appeared to be off on her own solo mission.  
  
Oliver kept a watchful eye over Felicity. Normally she would’ve given him the whole “I decide whether or not I need anyone’s protection.” After almost seven years, she’d learned to protect herself somewhat, although this castle had a sea of guards. She wanted Oliver by her side just in case. Felicity’s fast fingers scurried across the keyboard of her military-grade laptop. Firelight danced across her tiny frame in clad in at least four layers, which ended in a plain royal blue hoodie of her own and gray sweatpants. Oliver clutched a nice hot mug of coffee, enjoying the warmth against his bare hands.  
  
“It’s like he wants me to hack his security system.” Felicity giggled, tapping against the keys. Multiple windows flipped on and off screen as she easily created new lines of code.  
  
Oliver smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
“You sound like you’re really enjoying yourself, Honey.”  
  
“I am,” she intoned. “But next time someone give me more of a challenge. Seriously? His firewalls are easier to break into than a Myspace account in the mid-2000’s.”  
  
In moments like these, he could see her beautiful mind racing to a finish line with ease. She loved the thrill of being a hacker, and he loved seeing his wife so genuinely happy.  
  
“Still no sign of Lazarov?”  
  
“No,” was his wife’s regretful response. “But we owe a big thank you to Wendy and Marvin for letting us use the Celestial Eye.”  
  
Felicity met Wendy in a computer science class at M.I.T, and her brother a short while later. Wendy and Marvin Harris, a fraternal twin duo who was occasionally known for working with Batgirl and someone Oliver referred to as a dink in a batsuit. However, Felicity thought Oliver and Bruce were a lot alike. Celestial Eye is a program that feeds into any camera or audio device in the world — traffic cams, phones, and ATM machines. All they needed was a current photo of Dimitrij, and they could find him —  no matter where he tried to hide. Unfortunately, the thick stone castle walls and winter weather were interfering with Wi-Fi.  
  
“Damn it!” Felicity grunted, “I’m shut out of the system again.”  
  
Oliver remained silent, watching the snow fall outside from the window. With no response, Felicity’s eyes darted over to her husband. Uh-oh, she knew that look and immediately padded the carpeted floor in her pink bunny slippers.  
  
“Hey, you sure are one distracted guy,” she noted, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Hon, you can’t actually believe what Wallenstein said. He’s obviously one of the bad guys.”  
  
His eyes fell shut, melting into her warm embrace. “I know.”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But I’d be lying if there wasn’t a small part of me who wanted to go back and change the mistakes I made. All the people I killed...”  
  
“Oliver. I think we’ve both learned from Barry and Sara, time travel of any kind will only result in making things worse.”  
  
“You know what I mean, Felicity.”  
  
“Yeah, I do. But I think what should matter to you is the man you are now because that man is the one I love. He’s the sweetest husband, the best daddy in the world to my awesome stepson and hopefully one day our kids too. He’s the man that people believe in, and he’s the man who’s a true hero. That’s the man who I will always choose to stand by.”  
  
A soft chuckle bounced her palm on his chest, “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
Despite the conversation, Oliver couldn’t get out of his own head just yet.  
  
Changing the subject, Felicity prompted, “So you and I have an anniversary coming up tomorrow, mister.”  
  
“I didn’t forget. I promise. I even have your gift in my bag.”  
  
December 17th marked one year of wedded bliss for the Queens, and no one almost died in the twelve months they’ve been married. That was something to celebrate all in its own.  
  
“I wasn’t worried about a gift. I have you.” His wife said, rounding the couch. “I was thinking…”  
  
“Yeah,” he hoped.  
  
She finished, “That I could show you the dress I’m wearing for the auction tomorrow night.”  
  
“Oh,” Her husband sighed, looking down at the blanket atop his legs.  
  
Felicity traipsed off to their private bathroom, and when she walked out, strutting her stuff like Heidi Klum on the Victoria’s Secret runway, there was nary a dress to be found. Oliver’s eyes soaked in the tantalizing sight of his wife clad only a mismatched sky blue bra and black lace panties, barely enough fabric to cover her ample assets.  
  
Adopting a sultry voice, she asked, “What do you think?”  
  
“I like it, but Honey, you’re going to need a whole lot more dress for the auction tomorrow.”  
  
“Oliver!”  
  
He wondered, noting the frigid air, “Aren’t you cold?”  
  
“Mmmhm.” Felicity nodded, rubbing her bare arms, “But maybe I want you to warm me up.”  
  
Totally cliche and cheesy. However, it worked a charm. Oliver got to his feet, abruptly scooping up  Felicity into his strong arms. Their mouths soon melded into a series of soft pecks. Oliver’s green hoodie lined the floor when their bedroom door closed. Their kisses grew hungrier, teeth gnashing, practically breathing in the same air. With a snap and flick, Felicity’s bra met her husband’s sweatshirt.  
  
He laid her down gently underneath a heavy down comforter from their unmade bed. Lifting her hips, his wife’s panties quickly followed, joining the useless pile of clothes. Felicity’s hair fanned out angelically over a countless mountain of pillows. She waved him over with a single ‘come hither’ motion of her finger. He knelt between her legs, pausing to remove his boxers. His body soon blanketed hers, and they reveled in the skin-on-skin sensation. Oliver’s lips trailed from the shell of her ear, teeth playfully nipping at her neck. Another little giggle bubbled up out of Felicity. Oliver rubbed himself against her core, though strangely Oliver's physical reaction was minimal. Currently, blood flow was more focused on keeping his body warm in winter weather.  
  
“Baby, I swear it’s not you.” Oliver promised, trying to increase the friction between them. “It’s just a little cold.”  
  
“It’s all right, Oliver.” She sighed, understanding, “It happens every guy at one point or another.”  
  
“Not to me, it doesn’t.”Her husband pouted, promising, “I’m going to make it up to you. This has never been an issue before.”  
  
Felicity recalled, “Well, when men of your age…”  
  
That earned her annoyed glare. He was only four years older than her.  
  
“Kidding!” She mused, kissing away his angry face.  
  
Felicity gripped his shoulder, urging Oliver to turn on his back. Reluctantly, he did so. They switched positions, and his wife hovered over the perfect spot. She took his limp member in her hand, stroking slowly.  
  
“Felicity, Baby, wait.” He hissed, directing, “Not like that. Come here.”  
  
Her knees bracketed his shoulders, stubble prodding under her sensitive folds. Again, Felicity took his thick cock in her hand, pumping slowly. At the same time, Oliver’s tongue darted out to lick over her increasingly wet sex. She moaned from feeling his stubble, lips, and tongue on her simultaneously. Her warm breath teased him before her smeary red lips enveloped the head on his cock. She sucked on him, and he licked across her core before he sucked on her clit. His calloused hands swept along her hips, up her thighs as far as they could go. She moaned, lips vibrating deliciously around him. Felicity released Oliver with a wet pop when his tongue entered her, tasting every single bit she had to offer. She llcked along the bulging vein on his penis, but screamed out before she could back to what she started doing. Her wet sex thrust against his face to its own volition, and Felicity’s mouth was left agape as he kept his mouth on her to prolong her orgasm. Her body collapsed over his, flat hand rest atop his member. They both panted wildly. Oliver definitely was at full attention now.  
  
When the pleasured haze clear, Felicity murmured against his cut pelvis, “My God. We haven’t done that since our honeymoon.”  
  
“I know. It was amazing.” Oliver exhaled, praying, “For you too, right?”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
“You all right?”  
  
“Yeah, just starting to get cold.” Felicity admitted, teeth seconds away from chattering.  
  
No matter how modernized this castle, it was still a structure built in the eighteenth century. Oliver turned Felicity over onto her back once more, draping her nude body in the heavy maroon down comforter. Wrapping another sheet around his waist, Oliver waltzed on over to the fireplace. He started a fire, adjusting logs with an iron poker. Faint orange sparks crackled, warming up their bedroom in an instant. When he returned to their bed, Felicity’s eyes drew open and closed, a soft smile creasing her lips.  
  
“You want to sleep now, Felicity?”  
  
“No, no.” She mumbled, shifting the blankets, “I’m all yours, cowboy. I just think… um… You’re going to have to do most of the work.”  
  
“Oh.” Oliver mused, dimples pooling in his cheeks, “So now it’s work, huh?”  
  
“Just get back here, and love me before I change my my mind.”  
  
Her husband huffed out a laugh, “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”  
  
“You love it,” she proclaimed.  
  
He planted a languid smooch on her lips. She had just enough energy to spread her legs, cradling his lower back. His hands cushioned her torso. A fresh scar puckered against her skin. Oliver rubbed his stiff erection against her slowly. Her eyelids fluttered when he was deep-seated inside of her. A hand clasped around his free one, and they made slow, gentle love. He thrust in, barely pulling out before he entered her multiple times. Her breaths sharpened. His stomach clenched tauter, both on the precipice of their imminent release. Oliver pressed a sloppy kiss on her mouth. Felicity’s heels dug into his butt cheeks ever so slightly. His hips snapped harder, practically shoving Felicity up the bed. She keened out in a silent cry, and Oliver nibbled on her pulse point at the crook of her neck until she came. Her walls pulsed hotly around his dick, squeezing at the perfect pressure. Wetness coated his thick erection. Oliver pumped his hips with one near violent thrust, and soon met his own release with a heavy groan. He abruptly pulled out, causing the couple to both moan at the loss of their deep physical connection.  
  
Oliver rested underneath the sheets for once. Felicity shivered somewhat, and he pulled her into his embrace. One arm slung low around her waist, fingertips absentmindedly tracing his scars. She splayed out against his broad chest, mimicking similar movements on his own scars. There were no words. They didn’t need any. All Oliver and Felicity needed in this very moment was each other.  
  
Minutes, hours, really one short nap later, a gust of wind burst throughout the room, leaving a trail of slush. Per usual, Dig had to make a pit stop to the bathroom.  
  
Stupid speed motion sickness!  
  
Thea looked queasy as well, but managed to hold it together. Cisco really wished he would’ve just opened a breach to various locations they needed to survey.  
  
“Where are Ollie and Felicity?”  
  
Dig checked, “No signs of a break-in.”  
  
“No foul play,” Cisco added.  
  
Thea prompted, “Maybe someone should check with Lyla, and see where they are.”  
  
“That…” Her friend grimaced, clearing his throat, “That’s not an option right now.”  
  
Suddenly, what sounded like a distressed noise erupted from behind Oliver and Felicity’s locked bedroom door. Barry phased through it.  
  
“Oh my God!” Barry exclaimed, shielding his eyes with his red gloved hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see anything.”  
  
“Barry!” Felicity shouted in utter scandal, covering her breasts with an 1800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheet. “What are you doing in here?”  
  
“I-I thought you two were in danger.”  
  
“It does matter what you thought.” Oliver growled, commanding fiercely “Get out now!”  
  
He literally raced out of the room, almost taking a header into the wall.He looked like a little boy, peering at his friends through spaces in between his fingers.  
  
“You don’t want to go in there.”  
  
Palming his face, John piped up, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from those two.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Thea wondered, cringing when she got the picture. “Oh… Never mind! Ugh, gross!”  
  
Cisco grumbled bitterly, “Well at least some of us are getting some on this trip.”

* * *

Felicity couldn’t stop blushing whenever Cisco smirked at them throughout a late dinner. Oliver and Barry scoured the landmarks around the castle. That was until Oliver didn’t have enough mountain or roof to stand on anymore.  
  
“Can we take a break now?” Barry whined like a child, realizing, “This storm isn’t letting up.”  
  
Oliver clicked his comm, “Anything show up on the Celestial Eye, Overwatch?”  
  
“Nada.” Overwatch’s voice crackled in his ear, “I’m going to a do a thermal signature scan when the sun is up. This weather is messing with Celestial’s range.”  
  
“I think I know someone who can help with that.” The Flash figured, thinking to himself, “God, I hope you’re ready for this, Cait.”  
  
“Overwatch, I’m going to drop Green Arrow off back to homebase. Cait should be able to help control the snowstorm.”  
  
“Oy vey.” Overwatch doubted, sighing, “You really think she’s ready for that?”  
  
This was a joint mission. Oliver had to back Barry’s play.  
  
“It’s worth a shot, Overwatch. Let him go. We’ll be fine.”  
  
“All right. I’ve got some hot cocoa waiting for you when you get back.”  
  
Barry smirked, chest swelling with pride, “Thanks, Ollie. Hey?”  
  
“Shoot.”  
  
“Make sure Felicity doesn’t hog all the marshmallows.”  
  
He laughed loudly, “No promises, Allen.”  
  
“I heard that you two!” Felicity’s annoyance erupted in both their ears, “You both are going to be in a world of trouble when you get back.”  
  
Barry chuckled, “Sorry to incur the wrath of Felicity’s loud voice.”  
  
“Ah, it’s kind of a turn-on. Sorry, oversharing.” Oliver advised, pulling his friend for a bro-hug, “You be safe back there, kid. She might not be the Caitlin you and Cisco know.”  
  
“Understood.” He bobbed his head, vowing, “But I can reach Cait, Ollie. I have to.”  
  
Everyone managed to get a few hours of shut-eye, which was quite a rarity when hero work was involved.  
  
Not even bothering to knock, a familiar voice called from outside, “May I come in?”  
  
“Hell, no,” was Felicity’s quick response, and before she even took a sip of the finest coffee Croatia had to offer.  
  
Unfortunately, having to forego the decadent cup of caffeine, Felicity raced over to a baroque table. She clicked off the castle’s live security feed and pulled up some funny cat videos on loop. Upon seeing his wife’s jolt of worry, Oliver and Thea’s Kendo sticks clattered against the dampened stone ground. Oliver quickly undid a magnetic lock on his green hardshell, and Thea did the same to her red one. Felicity gaze bored into Malcolm, oozing with intimidation. Though the bastard remained unbothered as he barged into the heroes’ rooms anyway.  
  
Legally speaking, to the outside world, Malcolm Merlyn was a ghost. However, to various networks in the criminal underground, Merlyn remained to be the former R’as al Ghul, who also happened to command impressive funds due to his “business deals”,  
  
Well, isn’t this lovely?” Malcolm smiled broadly. “The family’s all here. Thea, sweetie, I’m right down the hall. Isn’t that convenient?”  
  
Thea crossed her arms in disgust.  
  
“What do you want, Malcolm?” Oliver inquired.  
  
“My how terribly rude of you, son,” the criminal observed, noting, “Though you’ve always had a bit of a harsh temper, Oliver. You should really keep that in check.”  
  
Staring him square in the eye, Thea grit, “You come after my family again, and I’ll end this once and for all.”  
  
“That’s my girl. Just like I taught you.” her father proudly smirked. “Relax, sweetie. I came with a little peace offering.”  
  
Oliver and Thea drew into a fighting stance as the assassin reached for something behind his back. Cisco entered the foyer ready for combat, a red energy blast whirring from his palm.  
  
“Alright, you creepazoid.” Cisco challenged, egging him on, “If it’s a fight, you’re looking for, Let’s go.”  
  
Felicity exclaimed excitedly, “Woah, you can do that now. Cool!”  
  
“I know, right?” Cisco’s lips ticked up.  
  
“Relax,” Malcolm informed, revealing a green bottle, “It’s champagne. If I recall, Oliver and blondie are here are celebrating one year of being tied down. Shame I wasn’t invited to that shindig. We would’ve had some real fun. Mimosas on me.”  
  
He left the bottle on a nearby coffee table, disappearing quickly like an actual magician. Much to his friends’ surprise, Oliver reached for the bottle, peeling the foil from its neck. He tossed it up into the air, and whipped out an arrow from his quiver. A sharp thwick popped the cork off the bottle, and in perfect timing, Barry zipped right in with Caitlin in his arms, catching the cork in his free hand. Despite Malcolm’s unwelcome morning visit, their little group relaxed. It was Oliver and Barry’s favorite party trick.  
  
Barry said, “Looks like I missed a lot.”  
  
“You knew he was coming back right now, and you didn’t tell us,” Felicity teased, lightly jabbing her husband’s arm.  
  
“Ow, yes. He texted while you were asleep.”  
  
Cisco’s face crumpled in disgust, “We’re not actually going to drink that. Are we?”  
  
“Why not? Who’s the champagne from?”  
  
“My dad.”  
  
Barry immediately set the bottle down like it was that same glass of bourbon he snookered from Joe’s liquor cabinet as a teenager.  
  
“Could you put me down now, Barry?” Caitlin insisted, narrowing her eyes at him.  
  
Her black boots hit the ground with a soft thud, and his lip quirked, “My bad.”  
  
“You… You’re still her.” Cisco pointed shakily, observing the pure white porcelain skin, blue lips, frosted white hair with a Prussian blue streak running through, “Killer Frost.”  
  
“Technically, yes. But she’s definitely on our side. You want to field this one, Dr. Snow?”  
  
Cait elaborated, “The mockup solar radiation in Kara’s blood can’t reverse my ice powers, but it can quell my urge to… you know.”  
  
“Murder people,” their friend finished.  
  
She nodded, “Exactly.”  
  
“Are we sure about this?” Oliver asked Barry, voice dropping to a whisper.  
  
With a hand raise, Cisco agreed, “I’m with Oliver on this one.”  
  
“Yes, Alex vouched for her, and so did Kara. I saw EEG scan myself, and if Kara trusts her, so do I.”  
  
“Okay.” Cisco accepted, running a hand through his long locks, “Woah, since you have to ingest a blood mockup, does that make you like a vampire now?”  
  
“In my defense, it tastes like broccoli turned into pudding.”  
  
“Yeah, not really helping your case there, Caitlin.”  
  
John shook his head in disbelief, “Okay, now I’ve officially seen and heard all the weird stuff I can take.”  
  
Oliver poured Felicity a glass of champagne, which was now chilling in an ice bucket thanks to the Flash. His wife’s mouth fell into a minute frown, feeling hurt that he would give her the first helping of assassin’s alcohol. His eyes darted over to her large purse and back to Felicity. With a tiny exclamation of understanding, she pulled out a little zippered pouch. She removed a small bottle. Unscrewing the eyedropper top, she squeezed liquid into the champagne glass and held it up to the light. Bubbles fizzed normally, floating up to the top.  
  
“We’re okay. It’s safe,” she confirmed.  
  
Cisco said, “I still can’t believe you carry poison testing equipment in your bag.”  
  
“Do you know how many people have tried to kill us in the past seven years? Of course, I do.”  
  
Thea then proceeded to break some orange juice from a carton, and make everyone mimosas with breakfast. When everybody had a drink their hand, the youngest Queen clinked her crystal champagne flute.  
  
“To my badass sister-in-law and my alright much older brother, we wouldn’t be together without you both. May your partnership and love always be strong. May it expand constantly.” Thea addressed, clearing her throat quickly, “So maybe I can have more nephews or nieces running around.”  
  
“What?” Felicity’s eyes widened, “We’ll get there when we get there.”  
  
Oliver gestured with his hands, signaling his baby sister should wrap up this toast soon.  
  
Reminiscent of their wedding, Thea toasted, “To Oliver and Felicity.”  
  
“To Oliver and Felicity,” echoed their small gathering, clinking glassing  
  
Smiling into a chaste kiss, his wife mentioned, “Happy anniversary, Oliver.”  
  
“Happy anniversary, Felicity.”  
  
She hummed in contentment. Their eyes draped shut, and their lips brushed against each other. Felicity’s hands splayed out against his pea green t-shirt, and he pecked her bottom lip, following it up with a shorter smooch like a cherry on top of a sundae.  
  
Barry’s boyish grin grew wider when he looked over at the happy couple. Thea’s joy shown in her eyes as she nursed her mimosa. Caitlin’s pearly white teeth contrasted her now naturally blue lips. Cisco gave the Queens a thumbs-up sign, wondering if he could snap of a photo of this moment, although he knew they were on a mission. So that would result in a hard no. John tried to feel joyful, but couldn’t. He gulped down a huge slug of the cocktail, wanting something much stronger. His hand tapped against his black jeans. A tan line from a noticeably absent wedding ring was evident on his reddish-brown skin.  
  
With their festivities over, Caitlin aided in helping the snowstorm die down as much as possible. Felicity was able to locate Dimitrij with the Celestial Eye. Security cams showed him just out the outskirts of Castle Wallenstein. However, they couldn’t stop him right then and there. They decided to put a kibosh on his plans when he went after the wormhole generator. It was the only way the Team could prevent Ghasi from escaping out his wretched prison.

* * *

Night fell over the estate. Teams Flash and Arrow dressed in the appropriate attire before they were schedule to make their appearances in the main ballroom. Oliver sat on his haunches, shirtless in suspenders and dress pants at the edge of their bed.  
  
“Why, Mr. Queen, are you trying to seduce me?” His wife suspected, fighting the urge to lick her lips.  
  
Eyebrows quirking, Oliver said as he lingered on the racerback cut of her gown from behind, “I could ask you the same thing, Mrs. Queen. But you know what?”  
  
“I want to cover my scars.”  
  
“Felicity.”  
  
“Honey, I know you think they’re just as badass as yours and sexy because you love me. But I don’t need comments from strangers.”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
“Good.” She added, cheeks flushing pink, “Now please put on a shirt before I pin you back on the bed.”  
  
Fully dressed, Oliver fished something out of his duffel bag, “I think you’re missing a little something, Baby.”  
  
He opened a velvet box, revealing a small diamond pendant.  
  
“Oh my gosh.” His wife gasped in delight, “It’s beautiful.”  
  
“You’re beautiful.” Oliver replied. “Oh, and that reminds me take off your bracelet.”  
  
“But Curtis said I should never be without it.”  
  
“Let’s just say, I’m not the only one you should thank. Curtis installed an upgrade to your T-Sphere remote. All you have to do is tap the diamond.” He noted, winking, “It should come in handy whenever you’re in the field with me, Overwatch. I want you by my side, but I also want you to be safe.”  
  
“Looks like we’re on the same page, my love. Check your case.”  
  
Opening his hardshell case, he riffled through it and saw new green arrows.  
  
“These look perfect. What do they do?”  
  
Felicity told him as if was nothing, “Those have lasers.”  
  
“The ones that cut through ice and glass. I’ve been wanting those. Thanks, Hon.”  
  
“I know. I know, which is why I designed them myself.”  
  
Soft music from a piano blended with a rather normal display of party chatter as if there wasn’t over two dozen killers in the room. Team Flash entered the ballroom with Caitlin in the center, looping both arms around her boys. Simple, but helpful if any questions were asked about the biochemist’s new look, they would simply explain it away with albinism. Caitlin looked striking in a long blue gown that matched the new streak in her generally snowy white do. It featured a high slit up to her thigh and covered in the skirt was covered in sequins. Her hair was in loose waves, and onyx pumps along with a silver and crystal pendant completed her ensemble.  
  
Barry plucked lint from his black trousers, noting his reflection in his shiny dress shoes. Why did Markovia have to mean black tie? He was much more comfortable in Central City casual Friday. Speaking of discomfort, Cisco loosened the bowtie on his neck for the umpteeth time.  
  
“Ooh, Francisco Ramon,” the doctor chided furiously, “you take off that bowtie one more time, and I will...”  
  
“This is ridiculous,” the engineer complained emphatically. He hated the tie, tux, and having to have his sweet locks tied back in a ponytail, “Why should a man have to wear a suffocating piece of cloth around his neck to be considered proper in a formal society.? It’s…”  
  
In interruption, Barry super sped his friend’s tie in a perfect little bow within seconds.  
  
“See?” Caitlin complemented, tear gleaming in her eye, “You look so handsome.”  
  
“You look better than James Bond, bro.”  
  
Before Cisco could return the pleasantries, Team Arrow walked in the room, looking like they were fresh off a video shoot from _The Fabulous Life of the Queen Family_ with Robin Leach. Oliver’s Tom Ford tux was perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. His shoes were Italian leather, and Felicity looked just as lovely. She wore a stunning crepe white racerback dress, pops of emerald green that emphasized tasteful cutouts just above her hips and a diaphanous wrap hanging from her arms. Gold strappy heels and a gorgeous teardrop diamond pendant finished off her look. Thea’s attire had a bit of an edge per usual — a burgundy dress with a high-low (mullet) hem. It had a subtle lace overlay, and she paired the Zac Posen couture frock with silver dangly earrings in the shape of arrowheads. Dig looked as dapper as Denzel Washington in an all black suit, crisp white shirt, and black bowtie.  
  
“Wow!” Felicity greeted, drawing the other trio’s attentions. “You three look amazing.”  
  
Cisco answered glumly, “We thought so ‘til we saw Mr. _GQ_ over there.”  
  
“Huh?” Oliver asked, clearly confused by the off-handed compliment. “Barry found the wormhole generator earlier.”  
  
“Mmhm. We just have to wait until Lazarov crashes the party to make our move.” She added in a low whisper. “I can hack through security with the IR burst receiver helping me out, but I have to be at least two feet away from the generator.”  
  
Barry continued, “Plus, if Wallenstein finds it missing, he’s heading straight for us.”  
  
“Exactly.” Thea said. “For now, we just have to blend in until the auction starts.”  
  
Dig excused, heading straight for the bar, “I’m going to go grab a drink.”  
  
“Felicity, Honey,” her husband mentioned, brushing a stray lock of hair from her elegant braided up do behind her ear, “I want to go check on John. Are you going to be okay alone for a bit?”  
  
Pressing a parting smooch to his neatly trimmed stubble, she waved off, “I’ll be fine. You know where I’ll be.”  
  
Crab puffs and umptious German chocolate morsels were calling her name.  
  
Away from the stodgy hustle and bustle of the party, sat a lone John Diggle at a dimly bar. His go-to Tennessee whiskey down nothing, but ice.  
  
John addressed the barkeep, “Leave the bottle, Eugene.”  
  
Oliver poured himself a glass from his trusty flask. “What are you doing here, man?”  
  
“A brother can’t have a drink at a party.”  
  
“No, I’m not saying that, John. But normally, you’d be out there dancing with your wife.”  
  
Or at least swaying to the music with their gazes flickering to each other while they minded the possibility of threats.  
  
“Things have changed, Oliver.”  
  
Sliding the glass away from his friend, he guessed, “Does that include things between you and Lyla?”  
  
Dig nodded solemnly.  
  
After a long beat, the ex-Army Ranger confessed, “A.R.G.U.S. is eating away at her slowly. I see it every night. She’s not the Lyla I love. She’s becoming a carbon copy of Amanda Waller. I don’t know if I can be married to a woman…”  
  
“A woman you do still love. So much, so you married her, _twice_.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“Besides what have we been doing for the past seven years?”  
  
His friend relented because that was a fair point.  
  
“She’s shutting me out, and I don’t know how to help Lyla if she won’t let me in.”  
  
“John, you’ve done a wonderful job at being there for me for the better part of a decade. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”  
  
Sighing heavily, face in his hands, “You don’t get it, Oliver.”  
  
“Lyla’s going through Postpartum Depression,” the vigilante blurted out, and Dig’s forehead crinkled in surprise. “Come on, man. You should know by now Felicity and I don’t keep secrets.”  
  
“You two are really chatty in bed, aren’t you?” Dig noticed, “If she doesn’t want my help, I don’t what I’m supposed to do.”  
  
Oliver suggested, “Maybe you’re not the one who’s supposed to help her. They have that new psychotherapist at A.R.G.U.S., right? But you can help just by listening and being there by her side.”  
  
John looked unsure at the moment, but then again his marriage and family were worth everything to him. They had to try and fight for their love at least. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

* * *

Mascara ran down Lyla’s face as she tethered herself to Felicity. They rushed off to a powder room before returning to a table while Cisco scribbled schematics down on a napkin. They had to consider all the variables if the wormhole generator became functional again.  
  
“Oh,” Lyla sniffled, spotting John and Oliver re-entering the main ballroom  
  
John strode over, tapping his wife on the shoulder. “You okay, sweetie?”  
  
She forced an uneasy small smile, “I don’t know.”  
  
“I think they’re playing our song.”  
  
A curvy local Markovian singer delivered a rendition of Ella Fitzgerald’s “I’m Glad There Is You” that made the roughened group stop and stare. Lyla’s baby blue eyes flickered over to her friend, wondering if she take him up on his offer.  
  
“Go for it,” the blonde hacker insisted. “We’ll be fine. Go on.”  
  
Lyla took John’s hand, and they stepped onto the dance floor.  
  
“We gonna be alright?”  
  
Biting her glossed lip, his wife admitted, “I hope so.”  
  
Never did Oliver and Felicity think they’d be the couple to turn to in times of need. It was a long road under the chuppah, but now they were a loving couple, who balanced being a lovingly, blended family. Individually, the Queens were both powerhouses in their our right during their day jobs and their night work. Felicity calculated her own schematics, debating in whispers back and forth with Cisco. A waiter disrupted their meeting of the minds, and strangely poured a glass of red wine from the wrong. Also, it appeared much too dark for a Bordeux red blend. Before she took the barest sip, Oliver’s hand draped over hers.  
  
“Time for a dance, Felicity?”  
  
“Oliver, you hate dancing. Even at our wedding, it was like getting you to try the food at IKEA.”  
  
“Well, it’s our anniversary.” He insisted, leading her onto the floor, “So why not?”  
  
In a hushed tone, she suspected, “Is something wrong?”  
  
“That guy is definitely not a waiter,” informed her husband.  
  
Felicity exclaimed, albeit a little louder than intended,“Oh God!”  
  
Thankfully, the Queens played it off as if they were simply a little frisky, pretending Oliver was nibbling and kissing Felicity by her ear. The live singer took an intermission, letting the live band take over. Violin strings quiver, engulfing the cavernous space with a sexy Argentinian beat. "[Montserrat" by Orquesta del Plata](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z3wKMrsTEk) was perfect for a tango of the same nature. Felicity's heel clipped Oliver's dress shoe.  
  
“Ouch!” Oliver growled in her ear, “Honey, I love how strong you are, but you’re going to have to let me lead.”  
  
“Go for it, partner.”  
  
Violin and piano were interspersed beautifully through the composition, making it perfect for a [Vigilantes' Tango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8NAD-oHDRM). Thank goodness, muscle memory worked in their favors. Felicity gracefully placed her feet in between Oliver's. The couple engaged in a close embrace, standing chest-to-chest. The duo locked eyes, heat and intimacy washing over them as they moved with near perfect synchronicity. Oliver spun Felicity sharply. His palms slowly slid up her thighs and she smacked them away all a part of their little cat and mouse game of this dance. She jumped into his arms with his chest cushioning her back. Wide steps and grand lifts were sassy and fun, but as they danced the couple kept an eye on the wait staff. Oliver lifted Felicity with poise, kicks, flicks, and spins creating quite a a show. Her eyes fell shut, lost in the moment. Her hand slid down his neck.  
  
“Where did you learn the Argentine Tango?”  
  
A sharp breath escaped her patent red lips, “My mom, um, used to make me watch those celebrity dancing shows with her. You?”  
  
“My mom made me take lessons when Raisa would drop Thea off to to ballet.”  
  
The music stopped. Felicity’s heels clomped against the marble floor, and it was clear she was the target of interest.  
  
“Oruzhiye nagotove (Weapons/Arms at the ready)” Anatoly commanded, and the waitstaff revealed handguns hidden under their white jackets.  
  
However, in this room, everybody was packing heat. A series of guns and swords whipped out one by one.  
  
“Drop your weapons,” Lyla vaulted over to Oliver and Felicity’s sides with her own glock trained to her hand, hiding it under her dress, “Stand down now!”  
  
“Listen to the lady.” Count Wallenstein agreed, “Or there will be no auction.”  
  
Similar to teenagers on the business end of a lecture, each assassin and mercenary drew back their weapons. The ticking grandfather clock indicated the Count wished to take a short break before the actual auction. Oliver massaged the knots in his wife’s shoulders, taking his time as he kneaded over her scarred left one.  
  
“I can’t believe your former friend tried to kill me.” Felicity’s voice trembled before she guzzled a safe glass of water. “I can’t-I…”  
  
“Shh… Honey,” her husband shushed, hoping she didn’t have her own flashbacks to Darhk’s ambush. PTSD was an unfortunate anxiety disorder Oliver and Felicity both suffered from in this line of work. He knew how awful those tragic memories must be for her as well. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now, Felicity. I promise.”

* * *

Regardless of earlier pandemonium, they still had to continue with plan. Lyla and Felicity sat side by side with their numbered panels. Awaiting, guests bid on rather useless items — Ming vases, Persian rugs, and Markovian gems. Finally after a long rambling speech about revolutionary technology that would change the world as we know it, Wallenstein unveiled the wormhole generator. The issue was that it had to have a huge power source, so Green Arrow, Flash, Speedy, and Vibe all slipped underground to the bowels of the castle. They entered a literal dungeon.  
  
“Yahtzee!” Vibe cheered with glee.  
  
Flash observed, “This thing is massive. We have to combine our attacks to break it down.”  
  
An energy blast whirred in Vibe’s glove. Flash’s hand vibrated at a deadly mechanical speed. Green Arrow and Speedy mounted their bows with explosive arrows, and John had his trusted glock aimed at the dormant generator. Meanwhile Felicity looked to be using a compact, but she was more precisely hacking into Wallenstein’s system. By using, the IR burst receiver earlier that morning she removed the correct data of Queen Incorporated’s funds, and was now working on upping to listings in the realm with twelve zeros behind it. Ghasi’s brother Dimitriij revealed himself to a cacophony of screams. He could turn invisible just like his sibling, emitting the same pungent scent of electrical ozone.  
  
Dimitrij smiled wryly in a thick Markovia accent, “Am I late to the party?”  
  
“Guards, seize him!” Wallenstein roared.  
  
“Too slow,” the powerful young man taunted, turning invisible in seconds, “Try and catch me, you fools!”  
  
Overwatch summoned T-Spheres. Two orbs implemented a heat signature scan over the ballroom. When the Lazarovs turned invisible, scent wasn’t the only indicator. When their powers were used, they show up white-hot on a heat signature scan. Unfortunately, all that was left where traces of spots he had previously been throughout the party.  
  
To make matters worse, the generator had a defense mechanism of its own similar to the A.T.O.M. suit, they couldn’t destroy it yet.  
  
“Overwatch, where’s Lazarov?” Green Arrow questioned in his altered voice.  
  
“Gone. He has powers just like Ghasi.” Overwatch reported grimly, “We need to take down that son of a bitch with everything we’ve got.”

* * *

 

Dimitrij was unsuccessful in his attempt to save his brother. They had been here before. The team ended up in the same wormhole, where the the older Lazarov had been trapped for years.

Trapped to a piece of debris, the Emerald Archer instructed gruffly, "Flash, move now!"

The scarlet speedster denied, "No, Ollie, not without you."

"Welcome back to Hell, Oliver," Dimitrij smiled creepily with his brother mirroring the exact same expression,

Suddenly, an old idea sparked in Barry's memory. He ran at his top speed forming a twister around the debris, freeing his friend from the confinement. Beaten, battered, and bruised, Barry helped Oliver out of the wormhole in a flash.

A proud grin chased Oliver's lips, "For once, thanks for not listening to me."

"Barry," Killer Frost chimed.

Felicity added, "Oliver,"

"We're okay." Her husband promised.

Allowing his mentor to use him like a crutch, Barry noted, "for the most part."

* * *

 

Days later, Teams Flash and Arrow were in the midst of a victory party at the Queens penthouse.

"Oliver, you better not be out fighting crime." His wife typed an angry text on her phone.

With a shake of his head, Oliver assured in a reply, "Barry and I just made a quick stop to the market."

Or more specifically, the vacant parking lot of a market.

From a distance in his suit, The Flash announced, "Ready?!"

"Ready!" Using an arrow as a crutch.

Oliver could still handle sparring one-handed, much to Felicity's dismay. Wherever, whatever they had to face. Green Arrow and Flash had a good team behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
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